


Amuse Me

by daydreamsonacloudyday



Series: Isabel Cousland [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsonacloudyday/pseuds/daydreamsonacloudyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair tries to cheer Isabel up when she can’t sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amuse Me

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble request:  
> Amuse Me - a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer yours up.

He wasn’t surprised to find her sitting alone in front of the dying fire. He’d seen the way she longingly looked down the road to Highever during their travels earlier that day. Their proximity to her old home most likely prompted a nightmare about the night her family was massacred.

Isabel usually held herself like the highborn lady she was, but now she was slouching, blankly staring at the dim embers of the fire. Her hair was sticking out in all the wrong places, and the collar of his shirt that she wore hung lopsided off her shoulder. Alistair loved seeing her like this—well, not _upset_ , but… disheveled. He was the only person who ever saw her in such a state and it made him feel… special.

He sat down next to her, and she jerked up, startled by his presence. Her brilliant green eyes landed on him, her brows furrowed.

"Did I wake you?"

Alistair shot her a lopsided smile. “You know it’s impossible to wake me. I’d be sleeping through this entire Blight if I wasn’t a Warden.” She smiled briefly before her expression became serious again. Well, that wasn’t the exact reaction he was going for. He’d hoped to at least make her laugh. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

"What _isn’t_ wrong,” she started bitterly. “I’m exhausted, I’m hungry all the time, I’m in a constant state of filth, my feet hurt, my back hurts, my head hurts… _everything_ hurts.” She let out an exasperated sigh, looking back to the fire. “I just want to go home and steal Nan’s cookies with Oren, take a hot bath, say goodnight to my family, and sleep in my own bed.” Isabel angrily wiped away a stray tear, blinking rapidly to hold the others at bay. “But I can’t. They’re all dead and Highever’s gone.”

"Isabel…"

"I’m sorry, Ali," she said, meeting his gaze again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I just miss them so much."

"I know you do," he replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side. She wrapped her arms around him and nestled her head against his shoulder. "Don’t be sorry about that."

She nodded against him and was quiet as he ran his fingers up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her. Alistair felt her wet eyelashes flitting against his skin, and when she sniffled, teardrops dripped onto his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the ticklish tingles it was causing him.

"What?" she asked, lifting her face off his chest. When he didn’t reply right away, she quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for his answer.

"You’re tickling me," he said, almost embarrassed, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. Isabel giggled, wiping the rest of her tears away before smiling at him. He smiled back; he couldn’t help it, not when she was looking at him like that.

"Sorry," she said, stifling more laughter, "I didn’t realize your _chest_ was ticklish.”

"It’s not that my chest is ticklish, your eyelashes were doing that _thing,”_ Alistair started, and she looked at him like he was crazy. “You know, when they flutter against you and make you ticklish.”

Isabel snorted and laughed again, and even though she was laughing at him he was glad to hear it. The sound was music to his ears, and it always lit up her face in a way that made her look so beautiful— _more_ beautiful, really.

She let out a deep breath as she calmed down, tilting her head to the side as she stared at him, a small smile upon her lips. She brought her hand up to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek, and then she was kissing him, her lips soft and warm against his own.

"Thank you," she said when she pulled back. Isabel laced their fingers together, resting their conjoined hands on her lap. "Thank you for always being here for me."

"It’s my job. I’m your knight in shining armor, remember?" Alistair said with a lopsided grin. "I’ll bravely fight monsters to protect my lady and keep her safe. And happy." He started flailing around his free arm, pretending to fight off enemies, and Isabel started laughing again.

"If you’re my loyal knight, does that make me a princess?" she asked. "I always wanted to be a princess when I was a little girl."

"If you’re a princess, you’ll have to be locked in a tower until I come and rescue you from the evil dragon."

"Locked up and helpless?" she said with a haughty huff, raising an eyebrow at him. "I don’t think so. You’re the royal one, _you_ can be locked up in the tower, _your Highness_.”

Alistair grimaced at her words, which only provoked more giggles from his fellow Warden. He wanted nothing to do with his royal blood, fictional situation or otherwise… unless…

"Only if there’s cheese in the tower," he stated. Isabel bit her lip, only to hold back more laughter. He grinned at her and she lost it, cracking-up after an unladylike snort. He joined in, chuckling alongside her, until their laughs eventually died down.

She rested her head against his shoulder, their fingers still twined together. “It’s always cheese with you, isn’t it?” she said as he started to rub his thumb over the back of her hand. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you love cheese more than you love me. If you had to choose between me or cheese, what would you do?”

"I’d choose the cheese, of course," he said, completely straight-faced, and Isabel sat up and shoved him in the arm.

"Very funny."

Alistair just grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. He bumped her shoulder with his, and she bumped him back, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He looked up and caught a glance of Shale watching over the camp, realizing they weren’t as alone as he thought. He leaned closer to Isabel, warily watching the golem.

"We should probably head back to our tent," he whispered, gesturing to the camp’s guardian. "Lest Shale decides she’s sick of our laughter and decides to bash our heads in."

Isabel snorted a laugh before she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. She glanced over to Shale, who seemed to be scowling—if golems could actually scowl.

"I think you’re right," she said, quickly standing up and pulling him with her. They scurried back their tent as swiftly and quietly as they could, careful not to wake the others. Once they were inside, they rearranged their bedroll before climbing under the covers. They cuddled together, her head resting on Alistair’s chest and their arms wrapped around each other. When they were comfortable, Isabel let out a deep sigh, her breath tickling his chest again. Alistair smiled to himself before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Hey, Izzy?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know," she murmured. "I love you, too." His smile grew wider at her words. "Goodnight, my brave knight."

"Night, my lady."


End file.
